


clementine

by goosemixtapes



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, brambleclaw is a good dad, leafpool's wish is irrelevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goosemixtapes/pseuds/goosemixtapes
Summary: “I’m taking the kits,” she says, fast, staring at the snow. “Leafpool can’t leave her position - the Clan needs her. And her kits can’t grow up with the whole Clan looking down on them. I - we’ve been planning this for almost a moon. We were planning to say they were mine, but I can’t keep something this important from you. I just can't."((aka the fic where brambleclaw is In On It TM))





	1. we were young, we didn't care

**Author's Note:**

> title/chapter title are from the song clementine by sarah jaffe
> 
> this isn't compliant with leafpool's wish but whatever i don't care about leafpool's wish
> 
> anyways i love brambleclaw

The sky overhead is the pale periwinkle gray that comes only in the winter. The only sound is the crunch of his pawsteps through the snow. The drifts reach up to his stomach, clogging his fur with flakes. But the snow falls softly and delicately, and the trees are gilded with glinting ice, and the sky is the perfect shade. He is shivering and alone, many pawsteps out of ThunderClan territory, and yet he is at peace.

It was early morning when Brambleclaw began to walk, and it is well past sunhigh now. He has only glanced behind him once, to see the long line of his pawprints, gray against the fresh snow, leading back and back to ThunderClan territory and eventually the camp. He is focused instead on the prints before him - the trail made last night, frozen into the ice so that the freshly falling snow cannot fill it. The trail with two sets of pawprints.  


~

_“Squirrelflight, please talk to me.” Brambleclaw steps in front of the barrier to camp, blocking the ginger she-cat’s entry. He keeps his voice low, trying not to draw attention from inside. “I know there’s something wrong. You can tell me, I promise.”_

__

_Ever since she returned to him, Brambleclaw has been determined not to lose her, not to fumble his second chance at happiness with one of the most amazing cats he’s ever been lucky enough to meet. He has made the time between his deputy duties and his mentoring work to just be with Squirrelflight. And he has become finely attuned to her moods._

_Lately, he’s seen the way she stalks around camp, her ears flattened to her head, her eyes unfocused, as if she is concentrating on something far from ThunderClan’s borders. She sleeps further from him at night, wakes at inopportune hours of the night, visits the medicine den daily. Brambleclaw’s mind abounds with worries, but he stops them before they can bloom into panic. Squirrelflight has never appreciated dancing around a problem. He needs to talk it out with her._

_But his attempt misses the mark. The fur along Squirrelflight’s back bristles. “Nothing is wrong,” she hisses, tail lashing. “The only problem is you, sticking your muzzle where it doesn’t belong.” She shoves past him into the camp, leaving him just outside the thorn barrier. His claws sink into the forest floor as he stares after her, wondering how he has failed, and what he is doing wrong._  
~ 

_The medicine den smells oddly. The usual sharp scent of the tangy herbs is underlaid by a sweeter scent, one that puts Brambleclaw in mind of the old golden days in the forest, scampering about outside the nursery with Sorreltail - Sorrelkit, then._

_Leafpool’s thick fur is flat and her tansy-coated tongue is careful, licking in measured strokes at Brambleclaw’s shoulder. He winces as he remembers Hawkfrost’s hooked claws digging into his fur, recalls the snarl in the tabby tomcat’s voice and the way his ice-blue eyes flashed with fury. He does not allow himself to dwell on Hawkfrost’s prone body at the side of the lake, and the crimson leaking from his wound into the waves washing over the pebbly shore._

_“Thank you, Leafpool,” he says softly, turning his attention instead to the medicine cat. “ThunderClan is lucky to have you.”_

_Leafpool’s tongue doesn’t falter, but the fur along her spine prickles up, and her claws flex against the floor of the medicine den. Brambleclaw blinks in confusion as he watches her take a deep breath, forcibly settling her pelt and stilling her paws._

_“Thank you, Brambleclaw,” she says at last, withdrawing from his wound. Her voice is cool and controlled. “Keep that tansy on your shoulder until sundown. You’ve almost healed, you’ll be all right after that.”_

_Padding out of the nursery, he sniffs the air again and recognizes the scent at last: the smell of milk._  


~

_It is late, and the warrior’s den is filled with the forms of sleeping cats, curled in their nests, furry flanks rising and falling almost in unison. Brambleclaw is close to sleep, but he can’t relax fully; his pelt twitches and he shifts constantly. The air beside him is frigid. Squirrelflight’s nest is empty._

_He catches her scent as soon as she slinks into the den. Brambleclaw looks up. Squirrelflight crouches before him, her green eyes unreadable. The den around them is silent except for the wheezing breaths of the other sleeping warriors._

_“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she breathes. The apology is two days late - two days of prickling silence between them - but Brambleclaw’s slight irritation doesn’t have time to blossom. “You were right,” Squirrelflight says, more quietly and gravely than he’s ever heard her speak. “I’ve just been worried lately.”_

_He lets out a soft purr as she crawls into her nest, pressing her warm flank against his. “It’s all right, Squirrelflight. What’s on your mind?”_

_“I know it’s late, but I feel like I ought to tell you,” she whispers. “Leafpool is going to have kittens.”_

_Brambleclaw closes his eyes. The shock hits him like raindrops, a spatter of cold that quickly melts into his fur, chilling him to the bone. “The kits are Crowfeather’s,” he says._

“ _Yes.” When he opens his eyes again to look at her, Squirrelflight’s face is turned to the sky. Her claws knead the ground anxiously._

_“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” Brambleclaw asks softly, but she doesn’t respond. “Get your rest, Squirrelflight. We can decide what to do in the morning.” All of it - Crowfeather, Leafpool, the mess they’ve left behind - can wait until dawn. Then the three of them will deal with it together, untangling the last of the web of problems left by the Great Journey. They’ll make a fresh start together._

_She is stiff at first, but relaxes into his thick fur. Her warmth is the last thing he feels as he drifts into a troubled sleep._

_When he wakes in the morning, she is gone.  
_ ~ 

Brambleclaw left the camp, following their trail, before any other cat could discover the sisters were gone. His paws are growing weary now, but he knows that Leafpool couldn’t have gone far. Not if she was close enough to kitting to leave the camp.

At first he was nettled by betrayal, wondering why Squirrelflight wouldn’t warn him she was leaving. But that has been replaced by the peace of this forest outside the border, carpeted in lichen and glowing with fresh snow. Brambleclaw’s resolve is firm and without bitterness: he is going to find Squirrelflight, and he is going to bring her back home.

The snow muffles the quickly-fading smell of their trail. But the wind carries the scents of Squirrelflight and Leafpool to him long before he sees the fallen tree. The hollow log is covered in a thick layer of snow, marred with pawsteps around one end. Squirrelflight sits atop the log, tail curled around her paws, watching Brambleclaw ford through the snow towards her. There is resignation in her eyes.

“Squirrelflight,” he mews once he’s close enough. “Squirrelflight, you have to come back to ThunderClan.”

She flicks one ear. He leaps up onto the log beside her, clawing his way out of the snow.

“I won’t let you and Leafpool leave the Clan. ThunderClan is where you were raised - it’s where your family is.” Brambleclaw spent most of the journey rehearsing his speech, but now that he’s in front of her, it’s spilling out too fast and too emotional. “Leafpool’s kits will be safe there, much safer than out here - and it doesn’t matter what everyone says, Firestar will accept them and so will I, and if I have to fight tooth and claw to make the Clan take them in, I swear to StarClan -”

“Brambleclaw,” Squirrelflight says, the tone of her voice halting him mid-sentence. “Leafpool and I aren’t leaving ThunderClan.”

Relief and confusion wash over him at the same time. “I - then why have you come out here?”

Squirrelflight angles her head towards the hollow log, where Brambleclaw assumes Leafpool is taking shelter from the snow. “Leafpool felt her kits were coming soon,” she answers quietly. “We decided it would be better for her to kit outside of camp.”

Brambleclaw’s confusion ebbs away, replaced by worry. “Squirrelflight, she could have been hurt!” His claws scrape against the side of the log as his mind spins through the possibilities. “Why would you forgo the Clan’s help in -”

“Because no one can know they are hers,” Squirrelflight mews quietly.

Brambleclaw falls silent. He regards her carefully, but she won’t meet his eyes. “Squirrelflight, what do you -”

“I’m taking the kits,” she says, fast, staring at the snow. “Leafpool can’t leave her position - the Clan needs her. And her kits can’t grow up with the whole Clan looking down on them. I - we’ve been planning this for almost a moon.”

Silence.

Flipping her tail anxiously, Squirrelflight rambles on: “Listen, we were planning to say they were mine, but I can’t keep something this important from you. I just can’t. I just - Leafpool has suffered enough, and I don’t want her to keep hurting, and I know that you won’t want anything else to do with me but I’m begging you not to tell the Clan, because then it would all be for -”

“Squirrelflight, we’ll take them.” Brambleclaw barely has to consider it. He knows what it feels like growing up beneath the shadow of a parent’s deeds. He will never let that befall these kits, not if he can do anything to stop it. He will never let them grow up with the Clan staring at them, always wary, always treading lightly around the topic of their parentage, always sneering just out of earshot about whether or not they are loyal to WindClan. “We’ll take the kits.”

Squirrelflight blinks at him for a few moments. “We?”

“I love you,” he says.

“You mean -”

“We’ll raise them together,” Brambleclaw says, twining his tail with hers and staring deep into her eyes, willing her to trust him. “We’ll tell the Clan that they’re our kits.”

“But -”

“I love you,” Brambleclaw repeats. “I want to be with you. I want to help you raise these kits.”

Of all the things he’s seen her do - on the journey to the sun-drown-place or through the mountains or to the new territories - this might be the bravest. She is willing to sacrifice anything for her sister. And he is going to make sure no harm ever comes to either of them.

Squirrelflight presses her head into his fur, a purr rising from her throat, then leaps down from the log, her paws crunching in the snow. Brambleclaw follows her around to the side of the log, where they can look inside the hollowed-out space. Leafpool is sleeping inside, her thick fur fluffed out, curled around three tiny kits - one gold, one black, one gray. Brambleclaw’s heart seizes at the sight of them. They are so small, so vulnerable in the cold, but their tiny flanks are rising and falling evenly, and they already squirm in their sleep. So little - and yet so strong.

_My kits,_ Brambleclaw realizes, and though the snow continues to fall, he and Squirrelflight stay outside, gazing into the log, and he feels warmer than he ever has before.


	2. fifty boys, fifty lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on this!! Your nice comments honestly made my day and without them I doubt I would have had the motivation to write another chapter so fast, so I hope it lives up to expectations :')
> 
> also I attempted but I still can't fix the linebreaks so I'm changing them I think? I don't know how to use this website lmao

When the snow dies down, Brambleclaw ventures into the forest to hunt. The trees are mossy and the undergrowth is thick, full of frozen ferns and holly berries bright against the snow. The prey is scarce, but he manages to catch a small squirrel by tracking it through the drifts.

He follows his own pawprints back to the hollow log. Squirrelflight and Leafpool are curled inside, shielding the three kits from the worst of the cold. They look up as he enters. Squirrelflight blinks sleepily, looking happier than she has for the past half-moon, but Leafpool is immediately on alert, her amber eyes flashing with wariness.

Brambleclaw drops his catch next to the tabby queen. Leafpool stares at him for a moment before dipping her head to take the prey. “Thank you, Brambleclaw,” she says quietly.

Brambleclaw nods, feeling the fur along his shoulders prickle. The way she watches him - it’s as if she thinks he’s going to attack her. He wonders if she thinks about that day as much as he does. The sun glinting off the fox trap. Firestar coughing, claws scrabbling at grass soaked with his own blood. Hawkfrost’s snarl as he advanced on Brambleclaw, righteous fury in his eyes, and the way he slumped into the water when -

“Squirrelflight tells me you’re willing to help her raise the kits,” Leafpool says, her voice measured and emotionless.

The kits. Brambleclaw shakes himself out of the memory, shivering slightly, and looks to the kits. Again, he marvels at how tiny they are. Their ears are flattened to their heads, their eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and their fur is slicked down. They’re so vulnerable in the cold.

 _I will never let anything hurt you,_ he promises silently as he watches them squirm. _I will always keep you safe._ What happened in the past doesn’t matter. What matters is here and now: Squirrelflight and the kits.

“Yes,” he says to Leafpool.

“Even though you know whose kits they are.”

“I would never fault a kitten for its parentage,” Brambleclaw tells her. Leafpool looks away, and he wonders if he’s spoken too bluntly. But then, she knows she was never supposed to fall in love.

“We didn’t plan to tell you. But Squirrelflight never liked the idea of keeping secrets from you.”

It couldn’t have come as a lovely surprise, waking to the Clan’s deputy staring down at her secrets. When he had gone hunting, Squirrelflight had still been explaining the situation to Leafpool. “She was right to tell me. I’m going to do whatever I can to help.”

Leafpool doesn’t respond.

“I promise.” Brambleclaw tries to keep the strain out of his voice. “Leafpool, you can trust me. What happened with - what happened at the lake - I would never hurt Firestar. I would die to defend ThunderClan, and these kits.”

Leafpool is silent for a few moments more. Then she says, “Squirrelflight trusts you. And I trust my sister.”

Brambleclaw waits, but she doesn’t say anything more.

~

He is itching to leave the hollow log, but it’s nearing sundown now, and both Squirrelflight and Leafpool agree that they don’t want to transport the kits during the night. Instead, the three of them curl together inside the log as the sky outside darkens. Squirrelflight curls her tail over Leafpool’s shoulder and rests her head against Brambleclaw’s, and though he is impatient, a purr rises from his throat. _One night here,_ he thinks. Then they can make a new start.

Squirrelflight flicks an ear at her sister. “Leafpool, do you have names for the kits?”

Leafpool watches the kittens scramble over each other, nestling into her fur. Her eyes are terrifically sad, her cool facade dropped for once. Brambleclaw feels a sudden pang. This is the last night she will ever be able to call them her own.

“The little gray tom is Jaykit,” Leafpool says. “I think - I think it would be wise for the two of you to name the others.”

“Are you sure?” Squirrelflight blinks worriedly, stretching out a paw to her sister. “Leafpool, no one will know if you -”

“No. I insist. I - you’re their parents.” Leafpool closes her eyes. “You’re their parents. You need to name them.”

“But -”

“Squirrelflight, don’t - don’t argue with me. Please.” Her claws dig into the floor of the hollow log. She is shaking slightly.

Squirrelflight is silent. Then she nods, turning her gaze to the kittens. “All right. Brambleclaw?”

Brambleclaw pricks his ears, startled, as the rest of Leafpool’s words sink in. _Great StarClan._ The responsibility of fatherhood he is ready to take on, but the responsibility of actually naming one of his kits?

Squirrelflight snorts. “Fine. I’ll think of something.” She scoots a little closer to Leafpool to lick her sister’s forehead, then looks down at the kits. “The oldest one’s pelt makes him look like a tiny lion. What if we called him Lionkit?”

“Lionkit is a beautiful name,” Brambleclaw murmurs.

He looks to Leafpool, who nuzzles the kit’s ears. “I agree,” she says quietly. “Brambleclaw - the she-kit’s up to you then.”

Brambleclaw stares down at the small black kitten, his mind spinning. He has to make sure this is perfect.

Names like Blackkit, Smokekit, or Nightkit would be too literal. He has to think deeper. Snowkit comes to him next, for a kit born in the snow, but it’s too simple. Brambleclaw racks his memories of the last day and recalls the forest - the bright berries standing out against the snow, striking and beautiful.

“Hollykit,” he says firmly. “Her name is Hollykit.”

Squirrelflight and Leafpool fall asleep quickly that night, most likely exhausted from their trek and from the effort of keeping this secret for the past half-moon. But Brambleclaw lies awake, gazing out of the log at the stars in the small stretch of dark sky he can see. Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit, he repeats to himself over and over, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit.

~

The journey back to camp next morning is longer than the journey out. Urgency lightens Brambleclaw’s paws - they need to get the kits to the warmth of the nursery - but still, his neck begins to ache from the weight of carrying Lionkit in his jaws. Leafpool is still weary from her kitting, and she stumbles through the snow at half the pace of he and Squirrelflight. The kits begin to shiver. The pace is agonizingly slow.

When they at last reach ThunderClan territory, it is past sunhigh. A patrol falls on them almost immediately. Sandstorm, at the head, leaps immediately to her daughters’ side, demanding to know where they’ve been and what’s happened. Brambleclaw ignores Cloudtail’s questions and Brackenfur’s offer to take Lionkit. He has carried his son this far. He will carry him to the camp.

Squirrelflight is the one who tells their story, after handing Hollykit off to Brackenfur - that she was driven out of the territory by the urge to kit alone, that Leafpool accompanied her to help her through the birth, that Brambleclaw followed their tracks to keep them safe. By the time their group reaches the stone hollow, Leafpool is leaning on Sandstorm, and Brambleclaw feels as if his paws are about to fall off. But he keeps his head high as they enter, making sure to lift Lionkit high enough that his dangling paws don’t scuff the thorn barrier.

“Get Firestar,” Sandstorm tells Cloudtail, who runs toward the leader’s den. The rest of the Clan is already gathering, letting out shocked meows as Brambleclaw shoulders his way past and into the nursery.

Daisy is asleep, curled in the back of the den. Sorreltail and Ferncloud are lying beside her, sharing tongues. Ferncloud’s eyes fly open as Brambleclaw enters. “Brambleclaw!” She jumps to her feet. “What’s going on?”

Unable to respond with a mouthful of kit, Brambleclaw paws at one of the empty nests, making a hollow in the moss so he can set Lionkit down. Brackenfur places Hollykit beside him, then moves swiftly to Ferncloud’s side to relay the story.

Brambleclaw shakes out his pelt, trying to relax his sore muscles. He turns to find Squirrelflight, only to see her brushing past him with Jaykit, who she sets by his siblings. Then she steps into the nest, curling awkwardly around the kittens and pulling them towards her. She looks out of place in the nursery - her fur is unkempt and she doesn’t have the same milky scent as Daisy or Ferncloud; one of the other queens will have to nurse the kittens. But she sees him looking down at her and purrs, reaching up to touch her nose to his. “They’re safe now, furball. You can relax.”

“Right,” Brambleclaw mutters, forcing his fur to lie flat. “Is Leafpool -”

“She’s all right. She’s resting.” Squirrelflight’s voice is cheery; her eyes betray her worry. “She’ll be good as new by next sunrise.”

He touches his nose to her forehead, breathes in her sweet scent, feels the weight of their new secret settle onto his shoulders.

“Squirrelflight! Brambleclaw!” It’s Firestar. The leader hurries into the nursery, his whiskers twitching and his green eyes wide. He skids to a stop in front of the nest and stares down in awe at the three fuzzy kittens, as if they’ll disappear when he blinks. “Squirrelflight - they’re beautiful!”

Squirrelflight purrs as Firestar nuzzles his newest grandkits, gushing about how small and lovely they are. For a moment, Brambleclaw feels trapped in the latest web of secrets, guilty for going behind the leader’s back yet again.

But only for a moment. What Firestar doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

~

The cats on the Gathering island huddle close together. At the foot of the tree with the other deputies, Brambleclaw fluffs out his fur and stamps his frozen paws on the ground, trying in vain to stay warm.

The Gathering announcements are straightforward. Two ShadowClan warriors retired to become elders. WindClan fought off a fox. RiverClan made three new apprentices.

Firestar’s voice is proud as he announces Brambleclaw’s deputyship and the three new kits born to ThunderClan. Brambleclaw watches the crowd, his fur prickling, wondering if anyone will comment on Tigerstar’s son taking a position of power. But no one reacts beyond the usual nods of acknowledgement. Still, he feels terribly alone. Squirrelflight is at home in the nursery; so are Ferncloud, Sorreltail, and Stormfur, his closest other friends in ThunderClan. He can’t find Tawnypelt in the crowd. Brambleclaw crouches to the floor as the leaders continue to speak, and he tries to fight the chill dragging at his bones.

No cat wants to stay on the island for long, and the Gathering adjourns quickly. Brambleclaw stretches his stiff legs, stands, and moves to follow Firestar out of the clearing.

A dark shape looms in front of him, rising from the shadows: large ears, slender frame, black fur, pale eyes.

Crowfeather.

Brambleclaw’s chest jolts horribly. He is frozen, able only to stare at the WindClan warrior - the cat who used to be one of his closest friends.

“Brambleclaw,” Crowfeather says softly. Brambleclaw stares into his glittering blue eyes, trying to find some hint of the gruff but courageous Crowpaw who journeyed to the mountains and back with him.

“Congratulations,” Crowfeather says. His voice is emotionless. His eyes are empty.

“Thank you,” Brambleclaw manages to choke out. _Your kits are in my nursery,_ he thinks. _Your kits are called my litter, and you’ll never know they’re yours._

“You deserve the position,” says Crowfeather. “And a happy family.” Brambleclaw stares into his eyes, begging him to say something, anything, that calls back to the journey to the sun-drown-place or the struggle to carve out a new home for the Clans. Anything to speak to what the two of them, and the rest of their group, went through. But then Crowfeather’s gone. He slides into the darkness as if he were never there, and Brambleclaw’s paws are shaking.

“Brambleclaw!” Firestar calls to him. The ginger tom is already on the other side of the clearing, and most of the cats at the Gathering have dissipated. “Are you coming, or would you rather freeze solid?”

Brambleclaw follows him out of the clearing and across the log to shore. Ahead of ThunderClan, WindClan is already flying up the slopes toward the moor. Brambleclaw tries to pick out Crowfeather's pelt, but in the darkness it is impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school starts for me on friday and i'm usually hella stressed/busy during school but i'll try to keep writing this. also if you comment ill literally love you forever
> 
> im also on tumblr @goosemixtapes (updates on this will be tagged "writing tag")
> 
> ((edit 10/22: one of my other activities just ended so this should go faster now whoops))


	3. fifty 'crying-all-the-time's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah this fic isn't dead (owen wilson voice: wow) anyways i haven't updated this in a long time and this chapter isn't even that long so whoops
> 
> tw in this chapter for a kitten's death and the ensuing suffering

It shouldn’t surprise him, how easily Squirrelflight and Leafpool take to keeping secrets. Squirrelflight settles into the nursery immediately; she chats with the other queens; she looks genuinely sad that her milk won’t come; she washes each kitten carefully and tucks them into the curve of her flank at night. Leafpool keeps to the medicine den, hiding her milk-scent and the stink of her guilt behind the tangy smell of herbs; she checks the health of her sister’s kits without even a flash of longing in her eyes; she remains good-natured and warm to every cat in the Clan, concealing the signs of her grief.

It shouldn’t surprise him. It isn’t as if either has been particularly honest in the past. And yet seeing how effortlessly they lie shocks Brambleclaw to his core, perhaps because he is unable to do the same.

His nerves are easily read as new-parent jitters. The senior warriors playfully tease him for being an overprotective father. (Dustpelt, glancing at his former apprentice: “If they take after Squirrelflight, I’d worry, too.” Sandstorm, flicking her tail at Brambleclaw: “Great StarClan, you’re as anxious as Firestar was.”) Brambleclaw is grateful that no one suspects anything, but he can’t shake the paranoia that clings to him like strands of cobweb, making his fur bristle and his paws twitch until nearly every cat in the Clan has asked him at least once if he feels all right.

There is no reason for anyone to be suspicious, and yet he worries. Someone will realize that the timing is too convenient. Someone will realize that Leafpool looks abruptly slimmer, or that Squirrelflight never showed signs of pregnancy. Someone will realize that Brambleclaw is keeping secrets. Again.

He tries to ignore the ringing in his head, the whispers of doubt that say he should never have been made deputy, not after he left for the sun-drown-place without warning, not after Leafpool saw him in the forest in his dreams, and certainly not after _Hawkfrost-_

But he doesn’t like to think about Hawkfrost.

~

The nights are getting colder. His nest is empty without Squirrelflight at his side. The warriors den was trampled by the badgers two moons ago, and the foliage hasn’t grown back completely; the winter wind sneaks in through the gaps and tugs at his fur when he’s trying to sleep. It’s hard to keep the worries out.

But the nursery is fortified and warm. Squirrelflight is safe, and the three tiny kits are safe. They will always be safe, so long as he guards them.

_It will be all right,_ Brambleclaw tells himself. Maybe it’s a wish, or maybe a prayer to StarClan. _It will be all right._

~

Squirrelflight returns to her warrior duties when the kits are three months old. The announcement sends unease washing through Brambleclaw. Squirrelflight has been growing more restless with every passing day. She isn’t cut out to be a queen, but can’t she make it less obvious?

“Don’t worry so much,” she purrs when she sees his expression, flicking his ears with her tail. “I don’t have any milk, Brambleclaw! How could I stay in the nursery in a season like this one?”

She does have a point. This leaf-bare is one of the coldest Brambleclaw can remember. It takes him back to his memories of the old forest - his paws crunching crisply in the snow, the burning chill against his pads, the trees glistening with ice. The dens got damp and the prey ran thin, but he never minded. As an apprentice, the challenge of hunting in the snow was one he accepted eagerly. And as a kit, all he’d cared about was playing in the drifts with Tawnykit and Sorrelkit, seeing who could pin down the others first.

The memories sting more than the chill in the air. StarClan, he misses the old forest so much - but his recollections of it are already so foggy. Now he’s the one assigning patrols to fix the dens and the one giving up his prey to the elders and queens on the most frozen days.

~

But all of his fear is worth it for the kits themselves. Sorreltail’s brood takes to the snow first - they’re almost apprentices, after all, and they’re always underfoot. Cinderkit practices her hunting crouch here, Poppykit and Honeykit wrestle there, and Molekit scampers around the warriors coming back from patrols.

Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit are more hesitant. It seems like every day their legs are getting longer, their fur is getting thicker, and their little bodies are getting stronger; still, when their eyes open they remain at the edge of the nursery, peering out uncertainly, dabbing at the snow with their tiny fluffy paws. Brambleclaw wonders if they recall the trek to the camp after their birth, but he discounts the thought; they were far too small at the time.

He makes the time, between organizing patrols and scouring the freezing forest for food, to watch them watch Sorreltail’s kits. The older kittens are delighted with the snow, delighted to be out of the stuffy nursery - and Brambleclaw’s children are visibly straining to join them.

Jaykit is the first to break. There is muffled discussion from the nursery edge, where their three fluffy faces are silhouetted, and then he squeezes out from between the other two and marches forward, lifting his paws high with every step.

_They figured out Jaykit was blind when the kits were a half moon old - shortly after the three opened their eyes. There was just something about the blankness in his gaze, the way he stumbled into the nursery walls, the way his whiskers were always twitching and his ears were always swiveling, but he never looked his parents straight in the eyes._

_It was Leafpool who confirmed it, anxiety glimmering in her gaze as she looked at Jaykit. He himself had no response, other than to flick his tail and demand, “Are we done? Hollykit and Lionkit are playing!”_

_“He’ll never be a warrior,” Brambleclaw murmured to Squirrelflight later, still reeling._

_Her fur spiked up, and she whirled. “He can be whatever he wants,” she hissed. “Longtail had to retire because he was born sighted. A cat born blind could be a warrior.”_

_He was too tired to be annoyed with her, just kept up his internal mantra: it will be all right, it will be all right, it will be all right._

“Is it cold?” Hollykit calls out.

“It’s fine,” Jaykit answers, turning up his nose proudly, and immediately walks into a snowdrift. He sinks belly-high into the snow with a squeal.

Lionkit immediately darts out of the den, slipping and skidding on the icy ground, but Brambleclaw is closer. He lifts a spitting Jaykit out of the drift and sets him gently in front of the nursery.

“That - that -” Jaykit fumbles around indignantly for a few minutes before deciding on “ - that’s not _fair_!”

Lionkit bounces around him, chest puffed out. “I’ll protect you!” he squeaks, batting at a chunk of ice on the ground and sending it skittering across camp.

_Lionkit was the first to open his eyes. He was also the first to stand up, and to eat solid food, and to leave the nest to explore the darkest corners of the nursery. Every night, when Brambleclaw slides into the nursery to say goodnight to Squirrelflight, Lionkit jumps up to bat tiny paws at his muzzle - or, when he’s sleepy, to growl at him from within the nest, his mew muffled by Squirrelflight’s bushy tail. Brambleclaw’s status - rogue, badger, ShadowClan warrior - changes every night, but Lionkit is always Lionstar, ThunderClan legend, protecting his Clan._

“Mouse-brain!” Jaykit jumps up, shaking off his snow-dusted pelt, and leaps atop his brother. They roll across the camp, away from Brambleclaw, who snorts and looks to Hollykit.

Hollykit is still hovering at the edge of the nursery. She dabs out a paw, touches the snow, and withdraws again.

“Come on, Hollykit,” Brambleclaw calls softly, a purr rising in his throat. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

“But - but it’s cold,” she protests, scratching again at the frosted ground.

“I’ll protect you.”

Hollykit sways indecisively in place, then darts out of the nursery so fast she almost collides with his legs. She skitters between his forepaws and stops, fur fluffing up along her tail.

“My paws are cold!” she squeals.

“Oh? You think you’re cold now?” Purring, he raises one paw and shakes off the snow dusting his claws, sprinkling the fresh powder over her back and speckling her black fur with white. “What about now?”

“Dad!” she shrieks, leaping away. “ _Dad_!”

“I’ll save you!” Lionkit yells, shooting across camp, and a moment later Jaykit is wobbling along behind him: “Wait for me!”

Lionkit crashes into Brambleclaw’s legs so hard that Brambleclaw winces on his behalf, but Lionkit hardly seems to notice. Leaping back to his feet, he immediately goes after Brambleclaw’s tail. “You filthy badger! Leave her alone!”

“I can do it myself!” Hollykit complains, wriggling out from between Brambleclaw’s forelegs and flinging herself back at him; Jaykit follows a moment after. Brambleclaw goes down under a wave of kitten-fluff, purring so loudly he thinks it’s a wonder the ground doesn’t shake.

All of the anxiety is worth it for the kits, he thinks as he lets Jaykit push his face into the ground. All of the lying is worth it so that the three of them can grow up happy.

_Everything is going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right._

He almost lets himself believe it, and then they lose Molekit.

~

It happens so suddenly. One day he’s coughing. Three days later he’s gone.

Leafpool is shaking when she brings the tiny body into the center of the camp. “He just - the herbs just didn’t work,” she’s saying again and again. “He just stopped breathing, he just - he -” Her words are drowned out by Sorreltail’s scream as she lunges forward, collapsing over her son.

Sorreltail’s howls echo through the camp until the sun drops beyond the horizon. It’s only then that Squirrelflight is finally able to coax her back to the nursery, curling up beside her in a nest in the very back. Brambleclaw only steps in long enough to spot his own kits healthy and breathing, peeking over Daisy’s tail as she tries to settle them down. As Brambleclaw hurries across camp, he passes Brackenfur crouched over the body, hears Cinderkit’s shrill voice: “Dad, why isn’t he moving?”

Leafpool is sitting as still as the rock walls around her. She doesn’t move as Brambleclaw shoulders his way into the medicine den, the fur on his spine standing up.

His voice breaks: “Are they safe?”

Leafpool starts, as if she hadn’t realized he was there. “I - are - who -”

“The kits.” Brambleclaw’s claws sink into the earthy floor. “My _kits_ \- is it going to spread, is it -” and then he has to stop, because he’s shaking too hard to speak.

He trembles in place. The medicine den is stiffly silent.

Finally, he musters the mammoth effort of pulling himself together. When he looks up, his eyes meet Leafpool’s. His fear is reflected in her gaze.

Something passes between them: a silent understanding.

“As long as I live,” she whispers, “they will be safe.”

~

The elders carry Molekit to his grave the next morning, but Brambleclaw and Brightheart volunteer to dig - Brightheart, because she is Brackenfur’s sister, and Brambleclaw, because he feels he owes it to Sorreltail. Perhaps if he hunted more often, or if he gave up more of his own food, Molekit would have been strong enough to beat his illness.

The ground is frozen. His paws are numb by the time the grave is deep enough for Molekit. Longtail and Mousefur lay the little body down gently, and Brightheart moves to fill in the earth. Brambleclaw wants to help her, but he finds he can only crouch at the edge of the grave and stare at Molekit’s prone form. Frost has started to form on the kit’s nose.

“Let’s go home,” Brightheart murmurs when she has finished. The four of them stagger back to camp in silence.

~

That night, Brambleclaw dreams that he is crashing through the forest, thorns tearing at his fur, his paws sinking into the snow with every step, his breath ragged in his throat. He skids to a stop in a clearing and there’s the grave, bare even though the snow is falling. Panting, he throws himself at it, digging furiously with unfeeling claws. _Molekit. Molekit! I have to save Molekit!_

His paws brush fur, and he reaches for Molekit - _StarClan, please, let him be alive, please_ \- and it isn’t Molekit.

There are three tiny bodies in the grave, curled atop one another as if they are sleeping, except their noses are frozen and their flanks are unmoving. Brambleclaw feels as if he is falling from a great height, and all he can hear is the roaring in his ears - and he screams -

He’s stumbling out of the warriors den before he fully realizes he’s awake, that he’s been dreaming. The camp he bursts into is illuminated by a sliver of moonlight and covered in a thin layer of snow. Brambleclaw stops just outside the den, crouching down low, trying to pull air into his lungs, but he can’t breathe. It feels like he is drowning in the water of the sun-drown-place again. His lungs are bursting, but even though he is gasping, he can’t stop the stabbing pain in his chest. _Is this what Hawkfrost felt?_ he wonders wildly.

Then he’s on his feet again, and he’s pushing his way into the nursery. Sorreltail and Brackenfur are nestled at the back of the den together, and Daisy’s fluffy shape is just in front of them. He quickly discerns Squirrelflight’s shape and almost trips over her in his rush to curl around her and the kits.

“Brambleclaw?” Squirrelflight murmurs blearily, opening one eye.

Brambleclaw touches his nose to Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit each in turn, feeling the warmth of their flanks, watching them breathe, and suddenly the tightness in his chest releases and he drinks in air.

They’re alive.

“Brambleclaw?” Squirrelflight asks again, and he realizes he’s shaking.

“I just - I just, I dreamed -”

She wraps her tail around his own. “Stay with me,” she whispers.

Brambleclaw stays. He lays his head beside the three, and though the kittens are asleep and will not hear him, he whispers his refrain until he drifts off as well: “It will be all right. It will be all right. It will be all right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i planned for this chapter to include more things but then it didn't so. some windclan drama next chapter.
> 
> constructive criticism is always welcome!! find me on tumblr @goosemixtapes also


	4. oh, it's floating in the air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa ho ho look who's alive
> 
> i haven't used ao3 formatting in months so if there are any glaring errors... let me know ghdfhdshf

Spring comes slow and steady to the lake. Warmth blows into the hollow with the scent of fresh foliage and the sounds of birds twittering. Brambleclaw watches his Clanmates’ pelts fill out and eyes brighten, and the old ThunderClan pride wells up in his chest. They’ve made it through the winter, and they haven’t lost anyone. Not after Molekit. Brambleclaw made sure of that.

He hasn’t had a day’s rest or a full meal in moons, but it’s all worth it to see the wonder on his kits’ faces when they emerge from the nursery on a sunny day and encounter their first flower.

~

The Clan sees what they expect to see, and for that Brambleclaw is grateful. Sometimes he thinks he’s reading too much into it, but as the trio grow, it becomes clearer and clearer. Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit look like their parents. Their real parents. Leafpool shows in Lionkit’s thick fur and the pattern of his tabby stripes; Crowfeather is alive in Hollykit’s slender face and wiry shoulders; Jaykit has his father’s tall ears and his mother’s build right down to his paws.

But Brambleclaw can see Squirrelflight in all of them, too: in the fluff of Lionkit’s tail and the bounce in his step; in the tilt of Jaypaw’s head and the set of his shoulders; in the glimmer of Hollypaw’s eyes and the way she spreads her tiny feet out when she stretches.

Privately, he likes to think they look like him, too. The way Lionkit holds his head high when he marches across camp, and how Hollykit flicks her tail when she thinks, and something in the sarcastic affect of Jaykit’s voice - just little things, but they tie them to him.

~

As the weather gets milder and the forest blooms with prey, Brambleclaw relaxes his exhausting cycle of hunting patrol after hunting patrol. “Finally,” Squirrelflight mews the first time he sleeps past dawn. “You’d think you were nocturnal.”

“There were patrols to organize.”

“It’s nicer here in the den,” she mumbles, pressing her soft flank against his, and Brambleclaw has to agree.

They both spend any of their free time watching the kits play. Ferncloud’s new litter can barely walk yet, but Lionkit and Hollykit are already preparing a tour of the camp. “For when they’re ready!” Hollykit keeps reassuring everyone who passes them by. “We wouldn’t make them explore before they’re ready!”

“They’d better be ready soon,” Lionkit mumbles, after the third or fourth time.

“They won’t be ready for moons,” Jaykit says. He’s forgone the tour preparations, instead choosing to practice battle moves against a thoroughly tattered moss ball. “They’re so small.”

“You were that small once,” Brambleclaw calls from the edge of the thorn barrier. The trio doesn’t want him hovering over them all the time; sitting here allows him to keep an eye on the entrance to camp while still making sure his newly-adventurous kits stay safe. Squirrelflight likes to bask with him, though she’s out checking the borders at the moment.

“We were _not_!” Jaykit insists. “They’re _tiny_!”

“Yeah, even Jaykit wasn’t that small,” Lionkit adds, and Jaykit pounces on him with a playful little growl. Hollykit gives a long-suffering suffering sigh before leaping into the tussle. Brambleclaw purrs softly to himself.

_Lionkit was the first to eat solid food, but Hollykit was the first to say anything beyond a milk-mew. She burrowed into Squirrelflight’s tail, mumbling, “You’re warm,” and Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight stared at each other - first with alarm, then with growing joy._

__

__

_“Hollykit?” Brambleclaw asked, and Hollykit blinked up at him. “What?”_

_A father cannot have favorites, but a kit can. Lionkit and Jaykit are the same - when they’re hurt, when they’re cold, when they’re hungry, they run to Squirrelflight. Hollykit always finds her shelter under Brambleclaw’s fluffy underbelly, and it overwhelms him beyond words._

“Brambleclaw?”

Brambleclaw jumps, fur fluffing up. Ashfur is standing at his shoulder, watching him with cool blue eyes. “A moment of your time?”

Brambleclaw dips his head hesitantly, and Ashfur sits beside him, wrapping his tail around his paws. He nods toward the kits, commenting, “They look well.”

“They’re growing fast,” Brambleclaw agrees. He’s starting to tense up. Ashfur seems cordial - ears relaxed, whiskers twitching with amusement as he watches the kits tumble - but as far as Brambleclaw’s aware, they aren’t on the best of terms. Since Squirrelflight and Ashfur grew apart, he hasn’t spoken to her or Brambleclaw beyond what’s necessary.

“They’ll be apprenticed soon.” Ashfur turns his gaze back onto Brambleclaw. His eyes are dark and serious, full of emotion Brambleclaw can’t define. “I know I haven’t always treated you fairly. Tigerstar… was a monster, but you’re not him. And I’ve been wrong to judge you for what another cat did.”

Brambleclaw blinks at the sudden shift. It comes out of nowhere - but it is, of course, the truth.

_Bramblepaw never connected with Ashpaw the way he did with Fernpaw, but their nests in the apprentice’s den were next to one another. Ashpaw had a friendly sparkle in his eyes; he always spoke slowly and thoughtfully, and always took the underdog’s side when the apprentices argued. At Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw’s first gathering, Fernpaw had showed them around and introduced them to the WindClan ‘paws. Ashpaw had been the one to lay his tail over Bramblepaw’s shoulder and mew, “I know it’s overwhelming now, but you get used to it.”_

__

__

_When Fireheart dragged Brindleface’s body into camp, Fernpaw shook, pressing her face into her mother’s fur and trembling from head to tail-tip. Ashpaw stayed stone-still beside his sister. His blue eyes met Bramblepaw’s, and the accusation in his gaze froze Bramblepaw to the spot._

_Ashpaw moved his nest, leaving Tigerstar’s kits at the back of the apprentice den. When Tawnypaw left, Bramblepaw slept alone._

Of all the things that haunt Brambleclaw, Ashfur’s animosity is hardly one of them. But bitterness swells in his chest now as he remembers. What is he supposed to say? That he forgives him?

But then, it’s not as if Brambleclaw has stayed entirely free of his father’s influence. He only broke away from Tigerstar when -

Well. Every cat makes mistakes. Maybe every cat deserves a second chance.

“It’s all right, Ashfur,” he says softly. “That was moons ago.”

“But I haven’t been kind to you and Squirrelflight lately, either,” Ashfur presses. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I wanted to know if you’d be opposed to me mentoring one of your kits. To show you that I… that I support your family. Because I really do.”

Taken aback, Brambleclaw wonders if this is all just a ploy to gain an apprentice. But Ashfur seems genuinely sincere. “I - I’ll have to speak with Firestar, of course.”

“I talked to him already. He’s the one who suggested I see you.” Ashfur looks sheepishly at his paws. “I don’t think he wants to put you in a… an uncomfortable position.”

Brambleclaw shuffles his paws. “Well - in that case, I’ll speak to Squirrelflight.”

“Thank you,” Ashfur says, relief clear in his voice. “I need to see Ferncloud, I just - I wanted to stop by.” With that, he stands and makes his way toward the nursery, tail held high. When he passes the trio of kits, he says something to them. Brambleclaw doesn’t hear it, but their ears perk up and Lionkit laughs out loud.

~

The sun is bright on the day the trio are apprenticed, and Lionpaw’s golden fur shines as he touches his nose to Ashfur’s. Brambleclaw can’t help the worry prickling at the back of his neck, but Ashfur’s eyes are warm with joy. Squirrelflight actually purrs at the scene. Brambleclaw knows she’s been worried about how frigid Ashfur has been; when he brought up the possibility of the mentorship to her, she was more enthusiastic than he was. Firestar only flipped his tail and commented, “I’m glad the three of you have worked this out,” and now Brambleclaw feels obligated to ensure they really have. No matter how anxious he might be.

He’s nervous as well about Hollypaw’s apprenticeship to Leafpool. “It’s not a good idea,” he warned Squirrelflight, but she saw no harm in allowing Leafpool to interact with her daughter - _their daughter_ \- a little more. Hollypaw practically bounces up to the medicine cat, and Brambleclaw forces his fur to flatten. Leafpool is smart enough not to give them away, and Hollypaw’s squeal of excitement when they touch noses is enough to convince him they’re doing the right thing.

He is not so sure when it comes to Jaypaw, who barely touches Brightheart’s nose before he stomps off to sit with his siblings near the entrance to camp. Brightheart blinks after him, whiskers drooping, as the ceremony ends and the Clan begins to disperse.

Irritation flares up in Brambleclaw’s chest. He rises to follow Jaypaw to the thorn barrier, to order him back to give Brightheart the respect she deserves, but Squirrelflight flicks her tail in front of his chest. “He won’t listen right now. But they’ll figure it out.”

“Will they?”

“Yes,” Squirrelflight says, as if it should be obvious, “because Jaypaw will do what he has to to be a warrior.” And by the way she tilts her chin as she watches Jaypaw follow Brightheart from the camp, he can tell she’s proud.

~

And Jaypaw is his son, no matter what, and Brambleclaw is proud, and his anxieties fade until he shoulders his way into the hollow one day to find Crowfeather in the middle of the camp.

He stops in his tracks. Brackenfur, who he’s been patrolling with, actually runs into his haunches, but Brambleclaw takes no notice. There are a thousand terrors suddenly pouring through his mind, a thousand hypothetical situations that all boil down to one issue: the kits. Crowfeather is here. Where are the kits?

He stumbles a few pawsteps further into camp and gets his answer. Squirrelflight stands beside Crowfeather, steadily licking clean a soaking wet Jaypaw. The apprentice is staring at the ground, ears flattened, looking abjectly miserable.

Squirrelflight glances up then. “Guess who decided to run off on his own today,” she mews, voice edged with both dry humor and genuine anger. “He stumbled over the border and right into the lake.”

Brambleclaw hurries to her side, peering down at Jaypaw, who only flicks his tail. Beside the three of them, Crowfeather seems to hover, a vast dark presence that Brambleclaw is frightened to acknowledge. He’s not sure if he can meet his old friend’s eyes and see that horrible emptiness again.

“Crowfeather brought him back!” Poppypaw calls from behind them, and Brambleclaw realizes that the rest of the Clan is watching them closely. “Jaypaw was gone all morning!”

“He’ll be in camp for longer than that if I have anything to say about it,” Brambleclaw mutters, trying to organize his emotions: fury at Jaypaw for leaving camp alone, relief that his son is safe, guilt that he’s been gone and missed the whole ordeal, and still a heart-wrenching fear of the black cat standing over them. “Has he been to Leaf- to the medicine den?”

“Not yet. I’ve been getting him warm.” Squirrelflight casts Jaypaw a sour look. “You gave everyone a scare, you know that?”

Jaypaw mumbles something and clambers to his feet, heading off toward the medicine den. Crowfeather moves as if to follow him, then seems to decide better of it, turning toward the thorn barrier instead. “Goodbye, Squirrelflight, Brambleclaw,” he meows abruptly.

Squirrelflight’s paws work as she kneads the ground. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

“Any cat would have done it.” Crowfeather looks up as he passes Brambleclaw, deliberately meeting his gaze.

The look in his eyes freezes Brambleclaw’s breath in his chest. That horrifying bleakness is still present, but there too is something sharper: gleaming suspicion, cutting deeper than claws.

Brambleclaw forces his voice to stay steady. “Do you need an escort to the border?”

“I will be fine on my own.” Crowfeather flicks his tail and disappears. The silence between Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw is stifling.

Brambleclaw lets out a breath. “He doesn’t know anything,” he says softly.

Squirrelflight won’t meet his eyes at first. When she looks up, her eyes are distant. “You can’t say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh so. i don't really have anything to say for myself. in terms of the whole leaving-this-on-unanounced-hiatus for so long. i've actually had this chapter 90% finished for, like, months. oops
> 
> i haven't had much inspiration for this fic lately + if i'm being 100% honest, i probably would have abandoned it if not for all the kind comments i've gotten <3 but i've been thinking about it more lately, and i do plan to keep working on it! updates will probably be more regular once the new year starts; rn i'm working on finishing up some original work (obligatory self-promo: i have an original writing blog at @goose-books on tumblr now!)
> 
> so uh. if you're still around. thank u for sticking with this and brambleclaw loves u

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure how long this will be but it'll be at least a few more chapters. expect some hollyleaf content bc i love her.
> 
> also im tentatively taking writing requests so if you're reading this and there's a fandom you'd like me to write for hmu and i'll see if i know it


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